Running

"You- you're- running… away?"

The boy looked up at his father, readying himself for the blow that he was sure was coming. He resolved not to close his eyes or flinch, he resolved not to make a sound, but most of all, he resolved not to cry. He would not, under any circumstances, allow this man to decide whether tears would spill down his cheeks.

What he wasn't ready for was the laughter.

"You go ahead," his father managed between guffaws, then quickly swallowed down his mirth.

"You go ahead and run, boy. You run as far and as fast as you can run, and whether you come running back or die from exhaustion, you think of me. You think of me boy, and remember what I'm about to tell you: you will never make it."

The boy picked up his bag, slung his bow over his shoulder, and slammed the door as hard as he could with his small, long fingered hands. He heard his father cursing drunkenly behind him, but didn't run. He wouldn't run unless his father ran after him.

After three steps, he knew that he had heard that door close for the last time when he had slammed it before. His father wasn't coming after him, not in rage and certainly not in love. He didn't get to run that day.

Instead, Shinon walked away.

It had always been this way.

He repeated this over and over in his head like a mantra, convincing himself it was true.

It had always been this way.

But maybe, he thought to himself, maybe… it doesn't have to be.

He shook his head. Best not to start thinking like that; he didn't want to go soft, after all.

He continued to throw clothes into his bag. It wasn't the same bag he'd used all those years ago- he wasn't sentimental like that. This bag was newer, better quality than the one he'd had as a boy. He had saved for months to get the bag, just because he figured it was almost time again. He wasn't smart like Soren was, but it didn't take a whole lot of brains to see that he had a pattern. Sometimes it would be months, sometimes years, but always, when he got comfortable enough to start settling, something would happen to scare him away. And then, he'd run.

Again.

So he'd saved, knowing that it was almost time to leave again. After months of saving, he finally had enough, and it just happened to be his birthday. He didn't celebrate his birthday- he never had- but he figured it was a good excuse to treat himself. He waited until he knew the streets would be semi-clear, and headed over to the shop to buy the bag; when he arrived, it was gone. All those months of saving, and in the end, she had bought him the bag.

He could still remember the first time he saw her.

"Hey!"

The girl sitting on the bed snapped her head up from her book to look at him. He could tell from her expression that he had startled her.

"Yeah, you- are you the healer?"

"No, I'm not the healer. Although, I don't think you're going to be any more impressed with him than you are with me."

But he was impressed with her- well, with her looks at any rate. Her blonde hair and blue eyes made him think of the stories he used to hear while he was sitting outside of houses at night. And, of course, her body was amazing. She was definitively feminine, with all the right curves in all the right places. She was, in a word, stunning. And he wanted, in three words, to screw her.

"So why are you here if you're not the healer?" Shinon queried. Picking up a chick in the infirmary was something he hadn't tried before- that was more Gatrie's style- but the way he saw it, she would most certainly be worth it.

No sooner than he let the question pass his lips did the healer come into the room from behind him.

"Ah, Emily, good to see you can finally sit up." The healer was an older man, and his robes were black instead of the usual white robes of a priest. Of course, Shinon had to himself at the time. Everything in Daein is black.

"Good isn't the word I would use. I can still barely support myself on my elbows," the girl grimaced. The healer motioned her to turn around- and Shinon almost lost his breakfast.

Across her back, from shoulder to shoulder, was an ugly, gaping wound. It looked quite deep to Shinon- he thought it may have even hit bone- and it was weeping clear liquid down her back. He supposed that would be the reason for her shirt style; he could tell when he first saw her that it tied around her neck and had almost no fabric to cover her back.

The healer dabbed at the wound with a cloth, and to her credit, the girl didn't squeal or flinch. After applying a vulnerary and wrapping the wound as best he could, the healer turned to Shinon.

"Well, what are you here for?"

Shinon didn't answer right away, still trying to recover from the sight of the girl's- Emily's- injury. It wasn't like him to become nauseated at such things; he had watched men's guts spill onto the ground in the middle of battle and not once been sickened like that. But that was the difference. While those men he had seen die and even killed himself had been in the middle of a battle, it was clear that her injury wasn't a battle wound. Not only did she look unhardened by battle, the injury itself looked as though it had been inflicted while she was tied down.

"I came to get my leg fixed up, but if you just toss me what's left of that vulnerary I'll be fine."

The healer looked at him skeptically, then tossed him the package of herbs. He looked at Shinon's arm as he caught the bag, and sized up the rest of him as well.

"You're an archer aren't you?" he asked Shinon.

"I'm the greatest archer on the continent, you twit. Now go pray for somebody's soul or something."

The healer wasn't deterred in the least.

"Take her to the practice area and teach her to shoot a bow."

Before Shinon could tell the healer to screw off, that he wasn't teaching some blonde chick any of his skills, she answered for him.

"Joshua, I can't shoot. I can't even hold one of the damn things correctly. Don't make this mercenary teach me something that I already know I can't do." She surprised Shinon with her vehemence. He should have been offended at being referred to as "this mercenary," but she seemed to be less concerned with that fact than the "fact" that couldn't shoot. The healer seemed to be just as surprised by her outburst as Shinon, but he continued anyway.

"Emily, that knife cut through your muscle as well as your skin. If you don't do something to try and strengthen the muscles, you will never be able to use them again."

Both Shinon and the girl took note of the phrasing Joshua had used. Not "may never." Not "might not."

Will never.

"Come on, I'll take you to the practice area," Shinon said to her. He didn't know what made him do it- hell, he still didn't know why he said that- but he meant it. It was completely out of character for him to give out charity, and yet here he was. Memories were probably to blame for his lapse in judgement. He had once been beaten so severely by his father that he couldn't move for a week, and he remembered how helpless he'd felt. If what this healer, Joshua, was saying was true, she would be that helpless for the rest of her life. Unless he helped her.

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a oneshot. It isn't. no, because I have some sort of psychological desire to ramble on meaninglessly- is that even a word?- this "oneshot" has turned into a four or five part story. There is a Shinon oneshot in the future, if I can bloody well figure out how to shut up! Also, I have made "mistake" that other Shinon fans make… he never mentions his father, but he does mention to Ike in a base conversation in PoR that his mother never hugged him. I have given him an abusive father, and not mentioned his mother. Oh well- we'll just call it imaginative license. :) Don't get me wrong on the note about Shinon's family, I'm not criticizing anybody- remember, I have just done the same thing! just sayin', it's something to consider if anyone wants to try to write something about him. Make of this what you will.